


Like A Proud Pet

by CalsLaundry



Category: Bright (2017)
Genre: F/M, Pain, Rough Sex, Spanking, belt whipping, but everything is consentual, some blood, sub/dom dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 08:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18847276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalsLaundry/pseuds/CalsLaundry
Summary: -With his nose tucked against your neck, he explores you, though no longer gentle. His nails, though manicured and neat, dig into your flesh. It isn’t until an arm comes around your waist that you realise his jacket has been removed, and clean, crisp shirt sleeves are pulled up, exposing strong forearms. The cold metal of his gorget presses against your back, and you shiver again. It is met with an amused grunt.“Is that all it takes?”-Kandomere comes home in a terrible mood, but you know exactly what he needs to cheer up.





	Like A Proud Pet

The sunset’s rose and coral reflects on the surfaces around you, and you glance out the window. Steaming pots bubble on the stove, soft honeyed notes dance from the radio from whatever station Kandomere had left on, and a gentle sway in your hips match them.  
He’d be home soon, no doubt hungry and ready to be as close to you as he could. Though you had barely left the house, only to get vegetables for dinner, he’d smell everyone who touched you, even briefly. You hate to admit how much it made you smile when he pressed himself to you, possessive and jealous, eager to rub his own scent over the ones that ruined his perfect partner.  
The door slams behind you and you turn to smile at your sweet elf boyfriend.  
But there is no smile from him. His mouth is a thin line, his brow furrowed, his look one that could kill.    
His hair, china blue in this light, is tousled, not something you’ve seen outside of your bedroom.  
With one look, you feel yourself switch. With one look, you know exactly what he wants. You turn off the cooker top and untie your apron. You feel his gaze rake down over you, a hitch in his breath at how your t-shirt falls and how your shorts show more skin than he expects.  
You rush past him, head down, arms stiff at your sides, but as you pass him, he cups your rear and squeezes, hard enough to make you squeak out a sound.

“Wait for me on the bed with nothing in my way”

His gaze sends a shiver through you and steals your voice. Instead you nod, but you remain still until he lets you go. You desperately want to check every reflective surface to see the lines and dent of his fingers in your skin, but you refrain. You’re more than happy to wait to see the results of his punishment. It wasn’t often he came home in a mood like this, but sometimes, just sometimes, he did. And he needed to relieve stress. And you knew how to help that.   
The first time, he’d held back, but with some discussion, he’d let loose. He’d regretted it the first time, apologising profusely in the shower, wiping away fluids and dots of blood, but you hugged him, told him to “shut up”(something that shocked him enough to _actually_ get him to shut up), and told him you wanted to do it again.   
And you did. Time and time again, it became something you craved.   
Even now, you feel the tingle between your legs as you strip down, and Kandomere hasn’t even followed you just yet.  
When you’re bare, you kneel on the end of the bed, comfortable. For now.  
You don’t look back when the door clicks shut, don’t falter when his footsteps are behind you, don’t flinch when he holds your throat and pulls you back against him.  
His voice is a grit against your ear, one that makes your heart thump and your throat dry.  
Even just for rules. 

“You have your words?”

You nod.

“Same as usual?”

You nod again, but this time, his hand tightens, and he nips at your ear, almost gently. He pulls you back to stand with him, and then your cheek is against the cool wall.

You shudder as the last sliver of control is handed to him.  

You keep quiet, you know he’s not done. He leans close, lips fluttering against your ear as he speaks, though now you can’t understand him. Elvish words tinkle from him, and you back curves. His hand leaves your waist, fingers grazing your stomach, your ribs, down your hip. He asks you something, but you can’t respond. Your silence grants you a hard slap to your rear. More Elvish, another question, you can’t reply, he spanks you again. You let out a moan, and two fingers drop to your entrance. They are barely a whisper against you and you try to press onto them but with no luck. Another bout of Elvish and he kisses your shoulders. It’s so gentle, a sweet reverie before his teeth sink into your shoulder, harder, harder, until the skin splits between them, and you groan in pain.

“Can’t even speak back to me, it’s like having a pet”   
  
He bites you again and again and again, until the searing, sweet pain thrums along the back of your shoulders and the space in between. You’re embarrassed by your sounds, moaning and gasping and panting for him. But his noises are the same. He pulls back from you, the cold air makes your wounds sting again.

“On the bed” 

You don’t delay, you kneel in the same spot, this time with your shoulders and face against the bed. You hear him undressing; the click of his belt, the ruffle of shirt and trousers, the almost silent tick of his gorget.

“Can you read, pet?”

“Yes, sir” you stutter the words.

“And what does this say?”

He holds the piece behind you, the long ornate strokes of letters baffle you. You know what it means, but in the moment, you can’t quite remember.

“I don’t know, sir” 

He snorts a mocking laugh.

“Of course you don’t.”

A slap to your behind; for ignorance.

“‘Elves above all. Above all elves.’ I’d say you agree, hmm?”

It’s warm when he settles it on your throat, clipping it shut at the back.

“And look at you wearing it, like a proud pet.”

A small yank on the chain makes you squeak again.

“Like your own little collar.” 

You shiver, and remain silent.

“But-” You hear his clothing finally fall from him.

“Good pets don’t come home putrid with the stench of other humans and-” he sniffs, suddenly right by your ear, “orcs too.”

He clicks his tongue, a sound of utter disgust.

From the ground, his belt tinks again, and the smooth leather swipes against you, just barely.

“The... _audacity_ of you to come home with such a scent…”

The belt strikes your backside too fast for you to respond.

“Shameful.”

Another strike against you.

“To think you wouldn’t wear _my_ scent with pride.”

Another.

“To act as if I don’t own you”

He growls out the line as the belt meets you again and you let out a sob.

“But you know I own you, don’t you?”

You nod, but another lash brings tears to you.

“What was that, I didn’t hear you?”

“Yes, sir”

“‘Yes, sir’, what?”

“Yes, sir, you own me”

He lets out a groaning sigh, as if the words alone bring pleasure.

“Good pet.”

He steps back from you. Cupboards open, caps pop, and a dribble of cold runs over your entrance. Behind you, a wet sound, paired with quickened breath. A finger slips into you, then two, and he moves them with the greatest patience. But the heat of him behind you reminds you that he’s not patient, and the tease of his fingers only lasts a moment before you’re empty and whining.

“A rather slutty pet too, aren’t you?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yes, sir” 

“Good”  
  
He lines himself up, and too slowly, pushes into you. The ridges of his cock send shivers through you, they rub just right. You try to push back on him, to have him fill you faster, to feel every part of him. But it earns you another spank.

“Patience.”

“Yes, sir, I'm sorry”

One hand presses to your lower back as he sheathes himself in you, and he lets out a stuttering breath.

His size, shape, everything about him is still a gift every time. Though you’re left no time to savour it. He sets a brutal pace from the beginning; fingertips dig bruises into your hips, words you can’t understand slip through his lips, hips snap with a mixture of anger and passion. You whine, moan, beg shamelessly, like the only thing holding you on the Earth is having him inside you.  
A line of cold against your neck hinders your breathing, and the brush of Kandomere’s fingertips between your shoulder blades makes your back curve.

“Remember those words, pet”

You can’t answer with the pressure on your throat, but he doesn’t care this time. He pulls you back on him using only the piece of jewellery, forcing himself impossibly deep and with force that brings a choke of his name to your lips. That spurs him.

“That’s it, tell everyone who you belong to.”

You get closer with each rub of ridges in you, with each thrust, with each pull of the chain. Pressure builds in you, a tight hot coil in your abdomen, your hands fist in the sheets, twisting like the spikes of pleasure do through you.

“Please, Kandomere, please, please, please”

“Come for me, pet, come on”

He pulls you toward him and leans forward, his teeth dig into you, and in the corner of your eye, when his lips leave your shoulder, you catch the smear of blood on his lips, painting his lips a messy red that made him look utterly predatory. A long whine, with the jumbled letters of his name, one that drips with worship and gratitude and adoration. He follows with a growl, thick streams of his seed fill you, pulling another moan from you. His forehead rests against your back, his breath puffs against your back. You look over your shoulder as he slowly pulls from you, and his eyes follow a string of fluid that connects you. When his eyes move and meet yours, they have a flash of regret, but immediately, his hands are gentle. He helps you up, words of praise and love and pride rain on you.

***

His chest is to your back again, though now you lay back on him, warm bathwater bobs against you. The blood and sweat and spittle and cum has been washed from you, and now, he asks about your day.

“I still have dinner to finish.”

“Hmm, just another few minutes”

He holds you tighter, as if ensuring you’re real.

“You said that last time.”

“Not the point.”

He kisses your head, and rests his cheek against the same spot.

“ _Arie miniv_ _ï_ ”

  
You smile, your stomach still flutters every time he says it.

“I love you too.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> "Bright" came out 2 years ago but Kandomere still makes me shiver. I am more of an Orc guy but I wouldn't say no to that elf....
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my work! For updates, giveaway info, and general thought process, join me!  
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